


The Haze: Official

by Gem_Gem



Series: The Haze [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry John, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, M/M, Silly Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inapproperaite proposals</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Haze: Official

**Author's Note:**

> You did ask for this (maybe I should have just made this story chaptered instead of a series...though it's fun as a series...isn't it?)
> 
> \- Gosh I'm tired. It's almost 3am here. I apologise for any mistakes.

“What are you doing?” John exclaimed one cold Sunday afternoon with his back pressing into the damp rim of the sink, his hands a soapy mess and his heart thundering at a rapid and dizzying gallop.

Sherlock had bent down on one knee on the kitchen floor before him, his head upturned and tilted as he stared up at John with the starting of what looked to be a very mischievous kind of smirk. He was clothed in smart black trousers and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, exposing more of his collarbone and chest than he would normally. Slowly he reached for his pocket and John felt a cold stab of something knock the breath out of him, and he shook his head roughly, feeling almost faint as a hazy and throbbing curtain of blurriness descended over his vision with each thump of his exceedingly loud heartbeat.

It had been little over a week since the two unnamed and unspoken situations between them had occurred, and since then, none of them had addressed anything regarding the situations at all. After their romp in John’s bedroom, Sherlock had pulled away from the kiss John had suddenly been losing himself in, grinned wonkily, almost dreamily, and then had wandered off, completely nude and flushed from head to toe. When John had finally picked himself up from the bed, wiped the most of his own mess from his stomach, and meekly moved out to find him, Sherlock had been fully dressed and engaged in something on his laptop. He ignored John, like he had many times before, and that, seemingly, was the end of that.

“No!” John shouted, his voice shrill and panicked, and he surged down to grab Sherlock by his arms, dragging him up to his feet. “Don’t you bloody dare! – Are you insane? Where has this come from? This is not the right course of action after what we’ve done! Have you been watching too much crap daytime telly again or something? What happens in those stupid soaps is pathetically fictitious! You should know this! Everyone knows this! – Get to your feet and just—what is wrong with you?”

Sherlock arched one arrogant eyebrow and glanced down at the suds now soaking into his shirt sleeves, turning the white fabric translucent, “John—”

“We haven’t even properly discussed what the bloody hell is going on between us yet! Let alone…thought about the future or anything like that,” John continued to ramble with his heart in his throat and a hot and creeping blush that bloomed over his face and chest. “And, you know what, I’d say no. Yeah. I’m pretty damn sure I’d decline, and then what, huh? Th-then what?—God what on earth went through your mind when you thought this was acceptable? We’re friends, Sherlock! Flatmates. We…we haven’t talked about before but…but I’m pretty sure it hasn’t changed much between us, if anything at all judging from how much – or more correctly, how little – things have progressed!”

Sherlock blinked at John and his mouth pursed and then twisted in bubbling amusement, his eyes crinkling and his nose wrinkled as he adjusted his stance and then let out a sudden thunderous rumble of laughter. He seemed highly tickled by the whole ordeal and just a little peevish, and John tried not to let his sudden anger get the better of him, flexing his soapy and wet fingers around Sherlock’s biceps tightly. Sherlock snorted and sniggered, bending forward to brush John’s face with his fringe, but the next tightening of John’s fingers sobered him enough to squint and regard John as his amusement dwindled. The scent of Sherlock was intoxicating with him being so close, and John swallowed down his sound of eagerness at the smell, pushing Sherlock back by his shoulders.

“I hardly find any of this is amusing, Sherlock,” John intoned sternly.

“It wasn’t what you think. None of it,” Sherlock told him, reaching back into his pocket and bringing out a condom packet with a playful gleam in his eyes. He lifted it up in front of John’s face and then fiddled with it, slipping it between his fingers in a wave and a smug grin. “I was trying to be funny and spontaneous—You’d really decline me? I’m hurt, John. Does our love mean nothing to you?”

“Shut up,” John huffed at Sherlock’s mocking tone, dropping his arms to his sides limply and glancing at the condom held in Sherlock’s fingers. “You’re such a git, do you know that? I should punch you—Get that bloody thing out of my face! I don’t know what you expected, but you’re not getting it, whatever it is.”

“What? Why?” Sherlock asked clasping the packet in his hand when John angrily motioned for him to get rid of it. “You’ve been dying to sleep with me again. I’ve seen you looking at me. You’re ever so obvious, John. – It’s almost too adorable.”

Grumbling and grinding his teeth with a flush, John returned to the washing up, splashing cooling, foamy water over the kitchen side, “Adorable now, am I? First gullible, and now adorable, what an odd jump.”

“I never called you gullible,” Sherlock retorted as he took two discernible steps closer, the warmth of his body seeping up John’s back.

“You implied it,” John shot back with a bite to his tone, elbowing Sherlock away when he tried to get closer. “Bugger off.”

“I was not implying anything. You’re not gullible. And I did not mean to upset you.” Sherlock sighed loudly behind him and moved to lean up beside John. “If you’re extra temperamental because of the wait from our last…encounter, then there is a reason for that.”

“Is there,” John replied shortly, glaring at Sherlock from the corner of his eyes for a moment, “and what is that exactly? What’s your reason for leaving me in my bedroom alone after we… did the deed, and then for acting like nothing had happened between us for a week? – Do you know how confusing and maddening that was? You were so…ignorant and closed off. I tried to talk to you about it but you either weren’t listening to me or you weren’t actually in the room I thought you were in!”

Sherlock stared at John a moment and then chewed on his bottom lip for a moment more, before he spoke, “I have two propositions for you,” he said in a low breath, pausing to glance into John’s eyes with a serious expression, “Firstly, let me just say that I had thought it would be better – for my diminishing confidence and for what could have been an awkward conversation between us – to start playfully, with a humorous and cheeky request for intercourse. You see, I wanted to see if you were still interested in doing what we did before, again, with me, but I wanted to ask in such a way that it would make you…laugh. Obviously that was quite a poor choice on my part. I didn’t think you’d be so panicked and then angered by it. I just thought it would be somewhat amusing to propose we sleep together again by going down on one knee and presenting you with the ring of a condom—”

“All right,” John interjected with yet another blush, feeling awkward and highly mortified, “I get it – What was your other proposition?”

“Right,” Sherlock murmured and inhaled deeply, nervously fussing with his hair, “the second was going to be a proposal that we…see each other. Officially. – Of course, I wasn’t going to ask this if you turned me down for sex. Sex is a thing you like and I thought that if you didn’t want to have sex with me, then you obviously wanted nothing more to do with me.” Sherlock scrunched up his face at his own words and glared off into the distance. 

John froze at his words, his heart thundering again, “You…you want to go out with me?”

“Yes,” Sherlock nodded and regarded the condom packet idly as he took another very deep breath and forced a carefree and cheerful smile on his face, “You were right. It was me. Who started it, the…the first time. It was me – I blamed you because you were the most experienced between the two of us but I…I’ve recently recalled a lot of what was lost, or rather obscured, during that drunken night, and after piecing everything together – including the rather amusing and pleasurable coitus we both partook in – it seems that it was all my doing—”

“Don’t ever say the word “coitus” ever again,” John told him, after gathering his composure throughout Sherlock’s rumbling ramble, and clenched his eyes shut tightly in disbelief, holding up one wet hand and spraying bubbles into Sherlock’s hair and clothes in the process, much to Sherlock’s vague dislike, “Wait. Let’s just…rewind all that for a second – You want to go out with me? You want us to have a sexual, romantic relationship? You? Mr I’m-Married-To-My-Work?”

Sherlock glared and threw his head back dramatically with a groan of annoyance, rubbing his temples, “That was then. This is now. Things change, John—We had sex for God’s sake! Twice! And the second time wilfully so.”

“This is why you were distant with me? Because you were off in your bloody mind palace trying to collect your dispersed drunken memories of the first night we…” John trailed off and waved his hand again and Sherlock blinked and clenched his jaw as more water and suds were splattered up his body. “I thought you had remembered it anyway? Isn’t that what you said during our…during the second time?”

Scrubbing a hand down his damp shirt, Sherlock rolled his eyes, “I said that I remembered the sexual intercourse we had. I now remember everything.”

John took an insecure breath, “Everything?” 

“Yes,” Sherlock said, smiling tightly and then leaning an inch closer to John with a scrutinising expression. “Do you…wish to know?”

“No,” John answered immediately without making himself think about it properly. “No. I don’t think I do. Not anymore – It happened. It—you know, we did what we did and that’s lead here. I don’t want to evaluate or hear how it started. It’s fine that it did and that it brought us to this point in time, where you are now uncharacteristically and amusingly and unbelievably asking me if I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Ugh,” Sherlock sneered in aversion with a shudder, holding his hand out in dismissal, “That’s not what I’m doing—I mean, yes, I am asking if you want to be…committed to this officially, but I have not, nor would I, word it quite like that. I really dislike the word “boyfriend.” Don’t you? It’s so…juvenile. Is there no other word for people who are not twelve years old?”

“Partner?” John shrugged, ignoring the way Sherlock suddenly looked at him with a lifting brow. “Boyfriend is the basic, overall, common term, no matter what your age really. – Okay. So, you’re asking for sex and a relationship, all wrapped up in one day after snubbing me for a week?—Oh, and by the way, if I did reject you for sex, that doesn’t mean I’d reject you for a relationship, you idiot. That’s not how people work. That’s not how sex words. And that’s not how I work. I might like it, I can’t deny that, but not wanting to have sex with you does not mean I want nothing else to do with you. Where did you hear that from?”

Sherlock glanced down at the condom, “Sex seems to be very important to a lot of people. It’s probably the most used excuse or reason for people who cheat on their spouse,” he said, juggling the packet and then slipping it back into his pocket. “What’s your answer then?”

John’s heart stuttered and he sighed with a faint glower in Sherlock’s direction, still chagrined at being ignored for so long, “You realise that we’re doing this all backwards, don’t you? Normally the dating, the relationship, comes first before all the sex.”

“We’ve practically been dating since we met,” Sherlock scoffed and wandered around to John’s other side absentmindedly, “plus, isn’t it good that we made sure we were compatible in the bedroom first?”

With a short laugh and a contemplating glance over Sherlock’s face, John finished up the washing and moved to dry his hands, stretching the action out longer than he needed to, just to rile Sherlock, and grinned, “All right,” he agreed with an overly casual shrug. 

Sherlock perked at the answer, “Yes? – Which are you agreeing to?” he asked in an annoyed tone, obviously frustrated with his own agitated state and the fact that he was slightly out of his depth. “The sex? Or—?”

“Both,” John cut in and took a shaky but confident step forward toward him, reaching to slip his hand into Sherlock’s trouser pocket to pull the condom packet back out slowly, teasingly. He bit into the inside of his cheek to stop the overwhelming need to laugh anxiously and hysterically at his actions, and instead focused on Sherlock’s flitting gaze. “And now, if you…if you want?”

“Now?” Sherlock murmured and nodded quickly, before he paused and tilted his head, eyeing John up. “How?”

John blinked and frowned deeply, mimicking Sherlock’s tilted head and smiling in confusion, “What do you mean “how?” – You spent a bloody week remembering everything from before and you’re asking me how—?”

“I mean,” Sherlock interjected with a roll of his eyes and a blush blooming on his high cheekbones and down the sides of his neck, “how do you want to have sex? You can… take me again, if you want? I did say you could and should. I’d enjoy it too, as it would give me a second chance to experience everything all again. Not to mention you’d undoubtedly be far better at it, being sober. Also, I know that you’d rather be the – what’s the word I’m looking for here? – The giver? The dominant? The “top?”” 

Trying but failing to stifle a giggle and a blush of awkwardness, John shook his head, “No,” he said, gesturing ambiguously when Sherlock lifted his eyebrows in doubt, “I mean, yes, I normally am the one…you know, “giving,” but I…I, um, I quite liked what we did the second time around – I don’t know why, exactly. I just…it was…good…and it was…different…”

“Oh?” Sherlock breathed with interest, his pupils suddenly widely dilating. He seemed to regard John for a few moments from his lowered lashes and then swayed in as if he was going to kiss John, only to turn away at the last second and smirk to himself arrogantly, as if he couldn’t help but do so.

“Don’t act so smug,” John grumbled and nudged Sherlock roughly in his side, straightening his spine assertively, “this doesn’t mean you’re in charge or you’re better than me or anything like that, you know – Now piss off.”

Sherlock’s smirk quirked wider and he trailed after John as he made his way to the bathroom, “Is that any way to speak to your significant other? – No wonder none of your other relationships lasted.”

John turned around and pushed Sherlock back by his chest, “When my significant other is a conceited bastard, yeah, this is the way I speak to them—And you know damn bloody well why many of my other relationships didn’t last!”

“Do I?” Sherlock replied exaggeratedly innocent.

“You’re a cock.”

“Are you positive you want me to have my wicked way with you again?” Sherlock asked him mischievously as he shoved his foot into the closing bathroom door and muscled his way into John’s personal space, pressing up against him. “What if I want—?”

“Next time,” John vowed, and allowed himself to reach out and push his hands up Sherlock’s clothed chest, mapping the man’s torso and shoulders. It almost felt like they hadn’t touched for years rather than a week and a bit, and John swallowed thickly with a heavy dowse of arousal and heat at the sensual and intimate way Sherlock was reacting to the sweep of his palms. “I promise, okay? I’ll let you re-experience the first night again at another time – I just…really enjoyed the change. It was kind of thrilling, you know? Like I was both being possessed by you and possessing you at the same time, like we were equals almost. It was freeing too, I think…it might sound stupid, but I felt more commanding and in control of everything... ”

Sherlock considered him, tracking the new blush that scorched its way across John’s face from his admission like a brand, and then nodded slowly, “All right,” he murmured, looking suddenly brazen. “I definitely want to re-experience it then.” 

“Well,” John laughed flirtatiously, feeling more at ease with Sherlock faintly rocking into his touches, “we still have the rest of the day yet. We might have time afterward – Could recover with tea and biscuits and then…you know, go again.” 

Sherlock turned his face into John’s left hand as it drifted up to cup Sherlock’s jaw distractedly, “I didn’t mean to ignore you for so long,” he stated, voice lowering into a gravelly drawl and causing a tight, sharp curl of frenzied excitement to coil in John’s gut, like a tensed spring, “I just wanted to…gather all the facts together before I – we – did anything else. Wanted to be sure. About everything. – I frequently masturbated thinking of you though. There were times I thought I’d go mad as I sifted through everything over and over again—I tried to go back to normal as well, of course, but I couldn’t stand it. I can’t go back. Not now. I rather think you’ve damaged me, John Watson.” 

“Good.” John’s skin tingled in an engulfing wave, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end with gathering eagerness, and he nodded distantly, “Yeah. That’s good, because that means I get to have fun fixing you.”

Slowly, Sherlock smiled at him coyly and was suddenly touching him back, pushing his hot, long-fingered hands up John’s sides and surging them through the centre of John’s chest to sneak around his neck to play with the hairs at his nape. He shuffled closer and bent his head a little, dropping his eyes to John’s mouth and if the hours of John picking apart his thoughts and feelings over the week hadn’t told him how he felt about Sherlock, the look Sherlock shot his way certainly did, and John felt his heart jump.

“I’ll let you…crack on then,” Sherlock joked with an overly straight face and suddenly stepped back, walking as far as the hallway outside the bathroom before he stopped and glanced back, “Make sure to bring the new bottle of lube, John.”

John nodded vaguely and then blinked out of his stupor, “Knew I’d bought more then?” 

“Obviously,” Sherlock replied in amusement as he strolled to his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went, “how could I not know about it? You bought three tubes of the stuff – And the bloody things are huge.”

“You did say to stock up—And they’re only 200ml, Sherlock,” John retorted with embarrassment and shut the bathroom door when Sherlock huffed loudly in hilarity and John caught a glimpse of his bare shoulders and back as he rid himself off his shirt in one elegant movement.

**Author's Note:**

> I know what you're thinking - How could I just leave it there? Where's the damn smut?  
> Who says this is the end?
> 
> Feedback fuels me!
> 
> So please visit my [Tumblr](http://gem-gem-bites.tumblr.com/) for updates on things and to keep involved with my writing.


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